


X-Ray + Penny - HISHE

by Whumpadoodle



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, HISHE, Kidnapped, Tortured, Whump, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 10:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whumpadoodle/pseuds/Whumpadoodle
Summary: Murdock wouldn’t have been so sloppy. And no way would Jack have given up that easily. So I fixed it.MacGyver 2x04X-Ray + Penny - How It Should Have EndedCreated for the 2017 Winter Whumperland Fic Exchange for sadmac356





	X-Ray + Penny - HISHE

_Fixed the fridge. :-) -Bozer_

Mac pressed dial again, skirting around the pool of water. At the expected beep, he said, “Jack, I know you’ve been putting me straight through to voicemail. Looks like I’ll be home for a while, fixing a fridge.” He hoped that Jack would take the olive branch, but the man had been known to pout before.

Stepping in the water was unavoidable as he pulled the appliance away from the wall. The most likely culprit was a clogged evaporator drain line, but Mac also wanted to check the compressor. Who knew what else Bozer had managed to “fix” while he was at it.

“If you wanna stop by, I’ve got an apology and some warm beer with your name on it.” The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the doorbell rang. Mac ended the call and set the phone down, relieved. Jack was finally being reasonable.

He paused in the entryway to scuff his wet shoes on the rug before opening the door, a greeting on his lips. He froze. 

It wasn’t Jack.

Mac stumbled back as three men wearing black hoodies and full masks pushed their way in. The first one reached out and jammed a crackling taser into Mac’s shoulder. He tumbled to the ground, muscles contracting and spasming uncontrollably, adrenaline rushing through his body. He tried to shout, to fight, to do anything except lie on the floor helplessly. The last thing he saw before passing out was two hooded figures reaching for his arms.

***

Jack shamelessly let himself in Mac’s front door. What was the use of having a key to your best friend’s house if you were just going to knock, anyway? “Okay, okay, you had me at warm beer. Now about your apology, I’m expecting a good one with a lot of groveling.” He walked through the hallway into the kitchen.

“You know, a full-blown, in your face, ‘I’m sorry.’ None of this ‘agree to disagree’ stuff.” He glanced down at the puddle on the floor, then saw Mac’s phone lying on the counter. He frowned. “You even in here, Mac?”

Silence.

“Hey, Mac!” He stepped through the back door onto the porch. “Where are yo--” Jack’s voice broke off abruptly as his blood ran cold. There on the porch was a wine bottle, a red Swiss Army knife still in the cork, and a mask. Jack scowled darkly and reached for his phone.

***

“MacGyver….” The soft, singsong voice filtered through the nightmares and brought Mac abruptly to consciousness. “Wake up and pla-ay.”

Mac flinched away from the bright light shining directly into his eyes. He squinted, trying to see who held it. The voice—if not the voice, then the cadence—sounded frustratingly familiar, but his head was stuffed with bees. Or perhaps some other droning, stinging insect. In any case, he was having difficulty stringing two thoughts together and his head sagged forward. Then the stinging moved abruptly from his head to his arm. He drew in a hissing breath, forcing his eyes to focus.

A needle at the end of a tube protruded from his arm. He followed the tube up to a clear IV bag hanging from a metal arm. He tried to reach for it, but the motion was halted abruptly by metal encircling his wrists.

Gentle whistling drew his gaze from his wrists to the man standing in front of him, shining a bright maglight directly into his eyes. That half smile. That soft voice. That odd cadence that made him sound as crazy as Mac knew him to be.

“Oh, MacGyver. How I have missed you.” He lowered the maglight. “Comfortable?”

“Murdoc.” Mac’s voice was thick and a bit slurred. His mouth felt as if he hadn’t had water in days. He looked up at the psychopath who had tried to kill him and everyone he worked with. Which prompted the question: why was he still alive?

Murdoc reached out and grabbed Mac’s arm, twisting the needle roughly. Mac cried out, the pain shooting up into his shoulder and forcing out every rational thought.

“And you can still feel pain. Setting the dose was tricky. Had to give you enough to slow you down but not so much that you passed out.”

The abrupt stab of pain faded into the background, and Mac’s heavy breathing started to slow as he reached equilibrium again. “If you think I’m going to tell you where Cassian is,” he panted, but was unable to finish.

Murdoc tilted his head to the side and regarded Mac with apparent curiosity. “I know you’re not just going to blurt out where my son is. That’s going to require some....convincing. And I’m quite looking forward to it.”

***

Jack sat on the hearth in Mac’s living room. Phoenix had descended within minutes of his phone call to Matty, but he could tell that not everyone was as convinced as he was that Murdoc was the obvious culprit. Other than the wine bottle and the mask, there was the characteristic lack of evidence. To Jack’s mind, that was more damning than anything.

“Riley, have you found anything yet?”

“I’m working as fast as I can, Jack.” And indeed, her fingers were flying over her keyboard as she scoured traffic feeds.

He knew she was doing the best she could. And he also knew with a sickening certainty that it would not be enough. He could have prevented this. He should have been there-- _would have_ been there if he hadn’t been so determined to prove a point to Mac. He couldn’t escape the fact that his stubbornness may have cost Mac everything this time. Jack rested his elbows on his knees as his head sank into his hands.

Then Matty was there, like she always was when Jack needed her, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Jack, this is not your fault.” Her voice was filled with so much conviction that, for a split second, Jack almost believed her.

“Then whose is it?” He tried to keep the despair from his tone, but knew he hadn’t succeeded when Matty caught his gaze and refused to release it.

“Not. Yours.”

***

The backhanded slap snapped Mac’s jaw around and sent his head reeling.

“Wakey wakey, sleepy Angus! It’s not nap time. At least, not yet. I’m nowhere near done with you.”

As soon as Mac had determined that there was indeed just one Murdoc, and not two side by side, he scowled. “Cassian is better off without you, Murdoc. Leave me alone.”

“I disagree, Angus. Sons need their fathers. You know that better than most, though, don’t you? Tell me, how goes the search for your dear papa?”

Hot rage filled Mac, and he lunged for Murdoc, intent on dismantling him with his bare hands. The handcuffs jerked him back into the chair as searing pain jabbed into his arm from the forgotten needle. A sick smile tugged at the corners of Murdoc’s lips.

“Now, now. Hurting you is my job.”

Mac clenched his jaw, still awash with fury, and shouted, “Get on with it, then!”

“Would you tell Leonardo da Vinci to get on with it when he was painting the Mona Lisa?” He broke off suddenly, then turned to regard his prisoner, completely unfazed by the malevolence rolling off Mac in waves.

“You inspire me, MacGyver. Making things out of other things. I’ve spent some time making some…modifications to my tool set. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and prepare them. But I’ll be back. Real soon.”

Mac watched him disappear up the stairs. As soon as the door shut, he bent his head to the needle in his arm. He pulled it out with his teeth, ignoring the sudden stab of pain that accompanied the motion, and carefully transferred it to his hand. A quick bend and the needle became a lockpick. The handcuffs fell from his wrists.

Heart racing, he stood, nearly knocking over the chair. Mac staggered to the wall near the stairwell, using it for support as he climbed. The door at the top was locked. Predictable. Yet surmountable. Despite the fog clouding his thoughts, Mac was not about to give up.

Hollow pipe. The IV pole would do. Pressurized steam. He yanked a pipe from the wall. Fitted together, they became a hydraulic jack. A makeshift, very dangerous hydraulic jack. With fingers mentally crossed, Mac turned his head and fired the jack at the door. With an impossibly loud noise, the lock shattered.

Mac hesitated a moment, ready to give Murdoc a face full of steam when he burst into the room. But there was only silence. He waited as long as he could stand, then dropped the pipe and scrambled up the steps.

The building above appeared to be deserted. A case full of Murdoc’s tools sat unattended on a solitary table in the middle of the main room. Mac glanced at them, then looked quickly away. They made his skin crawl.

He made his way across the room, more than a little unsteady. The ground refused to stay still. Whatever had been in that IV bag was potent. After what felt like an eternity, he made it to the front door. It was unlocked, and he wrenched it open.

A deafening crack echoed through the room. Mac blinked. He was certain that he had been standing just a moment before, not lying on the ground. The ceiling was as unsteady as the floor has been. He was dimly aware of a fiery sensation in his shoulder and turned his head to investigate.

A small pool of blood was spreading on the ground, streaming from a puzzling hole in his shoulder. Black boots appeared next to the red puddle. Mac’s gaze traveled sluggishly up, pausing briefly at the sight of a handgun, then coming to rest on Murdoc’s expression of mock-disappointment.

“Tsk, tsk, Angus. We were just starting to have fun.” He nudged Mac’s shoulder with his boot, and the agony sent him spiraling into darkness.

***

“Clear!” Cage called from the far side of the warehouse.

“Clear!” Jack echoed.

“Um, guys? I think you’ll want to see this.” Bozer’s voice was a little uncertain. A little green, if voices had colors.

Jack joined him in the adjoining room, suddenly understanding Bozer’s reaction. Two men lay on the floor, dead. They didn’t faze Jack, who had enough experience to save his energy for the mission. Bozer, on the other hand, could still count the number of corpses he had seen on his fingers.

“Execution.” Cage knelt next to the bodies, examining the bullet holes.

“I guess the only way three people can keep a secret is if two of them are dead,” Bozer offered.

Jack was moving again, unable to keep still. “He had another car waiting,” he said, thinking out loud, walking around a fresh pool of oil. “It must have had an oil leak.”

“Should we let Matty know?”

“Shhh.” Jack held the phone up as the video call activated. “Matty, he’s not here.”

“Talk to me, Jack.” 

“We’ve got two bodies, and a puddle of fresh oil. Nothing else. Trail looks cold.” Jack had to force the words out. A cold trail meant their chances of finding Mac were fading from slim to none, fast.

“Hold on, Jack. I’ve got local PD on the line.” Matty’s gaze shifted off-screen.

Jack looked around the room again, hoping to spot something that would loosen the tight knot of dread sitting in his chest. Cage still knelt next to the two bodies, sifting through the contents of their pockets. Bozer, to his credit, was right next to her, examining the masks.

Matty’s angry voice pulled Jack’s attention back to the phone. “Do I sound like I give a flying crap about jurisdiction? I’ve got a man missing and I want your crime scene techs there yesterday!” She looked back to Jack. “Backup is on the way. I don’t trust Murdoc not to have left a nasty surprise behind.”

Jack smiled grimly as he ended the call. If his worst fears were realized and they were unable to find Mac in time, then it certainly wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

***  
_Chains?_

Mac groaned as he shifted from unconsciousness to wakefulness. He was on the floor still, but propped against a wall. Both floor and wall were freezing. His wrists were suspended from manacles on either side of his head. He tugged at one experimentally. No give. He wanted to try the other, but his shoulder throbbed mercilessly. Even the thought of moving it made tears spring to his eyes.

Murdoc sat a few paces in front of him, chair flipped backwards and his arms resting on the back. He watched Mac like a cat watches a mouse. “The chains are a bit Dark Ages, I admit. But handcuffs weren’t very effective, were they? And I just can’t have you running off before we finish our…chat.”

Mac struggled to focus on his captor. He belatedly noticed that the IV bag was back, and the tubing running down the pole vanished out of sight beneath his jaw. He moved his neck slightly and flinched at the distinct tug of a needle.

“You’re very clever, Angus. Impressively clever, even. I’ll bet you’ve even figured out what’s in the bag.”

Mac glared up at him. “Nightshade,” he said thickly.

“Very good, MacGyver. It’s a belladonna concoction, yes. My own recipe. You’ll notice that your parasympathetic nervous system is in complete disarray. I imagine breathing is very difficult for you right now.” He stood and kicked the chair aside, then reached down and gripped his prisoner’s neck tightly. Mac grimaced and barely suppressed a whimper. “And look, your heart rate is extremely elevated.”

He released him and stepped back. Mac coughed, the abrupt motion sending spasms of pain through his body.

“Cassian.” Murdoc’s voice was suddenly soft. “Where is he, MacGyver? Tell me, and all this will end.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Rage flashed over Murdoc’s face and was gone in an instant, replaced by his characteristic disconcerting calm. Mac’s vision blurred, and then Murdoc was crouching next to him, holding a long, thin knife inches from his face. Mac tried to pull back, but was stopped by the chains, the wall, and the pain.

“You’ll appreciate this, MacGyver. Did you know it takes less than ten newtons to break skin?” The tip of the blade rested gently against Mac’s cheekbone, then crept slowly upwards, stopping just below his eye. Mac pressed his head against the wall, trying to push through it to get away from the knife. 

“Less than twenty,” he gritted out, determined not to give Murdoc the pleasure of seeing him cowed. “If you’re going to threaten me, get it right.”

Murdoc only smiled. “Of course, the human eyelid is made of much thinner skin. I’d imagine that it would take far less pressure to do damage there.”

Mac’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to meet Murdoc’s relentless gaze.

“It really would be a shame to damage your pretty face, though. Matty would be quite upset with me, I think.” Murdoc pulled the knife back, then set it at Mac’s sternum and flicked it upwards. It sliced through the button of his shirt and flipped the fabric back. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on Mac’s exposed collarbones.

“The longer you torture me, the more time Jack has,” Mac rasped.

“To find us? I’m afraid that’s not going to happen, my friend. You see, I have hidden you away quite well. We have all the time in the world.”

A half smile. Another flick of the knife against Mac’s skin. Then Murdoc’s hand shot out and he dug his thumb deep into the bullet hole in Mac’s shoulder. This time, he couldn’t stifle the scream.

***

“That’s the best estimate that the ME can give for time of death for the two masked men. The crime scene techs found something else, Matty, but it’s not much.”

Matty set her jaw. “We’ve worked with ‘not much’ before.”

There was a beat of silence, but no one was foolish enough to point out that it was usually Mac’s specialty. Cage forged ahead. “Tire tracks. Fresh ones. They’re waiting on a clean scan to see if they can trace them.”

“I’m on it,” Riley said before Matty could say a word, pulling up her laptop. “Have them send the tracks to me.”

“Will do.”

Riley’s computer issued a soft ding when the scan came through. Immediately, she had it uploaded into the most comprehensive tracking program she had—one of her own creation. And almost as immediately, the screen flashed success.

Riley’s face lit up, then fell. “We found a match,” she announced glumly. “The tires are standard issue for Honda sedans.”

“A Honda.” Even partially off-camera, Bozer sounded utterly defeated. “One of the most common cars in America. There’s no way we can track that.”

“We can and we will. Riley?” Matty’s lips pressed into a thin line. She wouldn’t be taking no for an answer.

Riley looked uncertain, but pulled out her laptop. “I’ll check all traffic feeds in the surrounding areas within twenty minutes of the estimated time of death.”

“Do it.” She glanced at Riley. “You’ve got this.”

Jack’s face appeared on the screen next to Cage. “Riley, we found a fresh paint scrape on a concrete barrier right outside. Gold paint.”

Matty smiled grimly. “A gold Honda sedan. That gives us something to work with. Keep me updated. Bozer, get back to Phoenix. I need you here.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

***

Mac slumped against the chains, chin on his chest, watching the blood that dripped from his mouth splatter on the ground. Time had become elusive at best, and he did not know if he had been in that cold, damp cellar for hours or days. Murdoc appeared and disappeared randomly, bringing fresh new pain with him every time. Sometimes it was a maglight stabbing directly into his eyes, gouging through his brain. Sometimes it was the knife again, dancing over Mac’s skin, leaving tiny stinging cuts in its wake. Sometimes it was cruel, ruthless pressure applied to existing injuries.

The last time had been a brutal beating that left Mac bruised and bloody. Murdoc had not shied from using his fists or his feet. Mac was having a hard time separating out the different injuries, but he was sure that he at least had a few broken ribs, some bruised organs, probably a concussion. The poison still dripping unceasingly into his bloodstream made it difficult to keep any train of thought for long.

Mac knew that he didn’t have much time left. If Murdoc didn’t kill him outright, the belladonna would eventually. So far, Mac’s one victory was that he hadn’t told Murdoc where Cassian was. But Murdoc asked about his son so sporadically that Mac had to wonder if that was indeed his only motive. There had also been a few unnerving times when Murdoc had come down to the cellar, only to watch MacGyver without a word. After ten minutes or so of silently staring, he would leave with a slight smile. Mac couldn’t begin to fathom what he wanted.

The door opened again, the whistling started, and despair washed over the young man. He was reaching his breaking point and certain Murdoc knew it. Any further torment would likely shatter him. Calling for help until his throat was raw during times of respite had proven fruitless. If his captor had heard him, he had been ignored. No other response came.

Murdoc whistled slowly as he descended the stairs. Mac wasn’t sure if the sight of the man’s empty hands was a comfort or not. He had learned that Murdoc could inflict as much pain without a tool as with one. Mac couldn’t bring himself to raise his head when Murdoc stopped in front of him.

“Angus MacGyver.” There was a pause. A rough hand gripped Mac’s jaw and wrenched his face up to meet Murdoc’s eyes. “Our time together has come to an end. Believe me, I would have loved to have longer, but pressing business calls me away. Don’t think I won’t savor the thought of you, alone in this cellar, slowly succumbing to nightshade poisoning. The delirium. The convulsions. I can already imagine it.” He released Mac’s jaw abruptly. “Do me a favor, MacGyver. Die slowly.” And then he was gone, leaving Mac alone with his pain and disorientation.

***

“Are you sure this is it, Riley?” Jack asked through the earpiece he wore.

“GPS says you’re right there, Jack. What do you see?” Riley had finally been able to track Murdoc’s getaway vehicle. They had positively identified the car by the scrape on the front fender in a traffic still from off of the main road.

“A creepy old brick building. There are no cars anywhere, gold Honda or otherwise.”

“Then he must have moved it under cover or something.”

“Hang on, Mac, I’m coming,” Jack muttered under his breath as he drew his service weapon. Cage already had hers in hand, and they had managed to convince Bozer to stay behind this time. Jack didn’t care if it was his direct order or the memory of the two bodies that had stifled any argument.

They circled the building cautiously, looking for any sign of movement. As they rounded the back, the roar of a motor filled the air. It was all the warning they got before a gold Honda sped out from around a corner. Jack and Cage dove out of the way, rolling immediately to their feet and firing at the car as it vanished from sight.

“That was Murdoc!” Jack yelled into the comms. “Cage, follow him! I’ll get Mac!”

Cage obeyed instantly, catching the keys Jack threw at her and sprinting towards the car. Jack ran to the building. “Matty, I want an ambulance here now!”

“It’s already on the way. Go find Mac.”

Jack cautiously entered the building, rapidly clearing the empty rooms, chest squeezing tighter each time he didn’t see Mac.

“I lost him, Jack.” Cage’s voice was angry and frustrated. “Heading back to your location now.”

Jack stifled an expletive. While he would have loved to have a few words in private with Murdoc himself, finding Mac was the primary objective. He cleared the last room on the main floor and was starting to panic that Murdoc had stashed Mac somewhere else and had led them on a wild goose chase when he saw a stairwell. And then he saw Mac.

He took the stairs three at a time, hurtling headlong towards his friend. “I’ve got him! I’ve got Mac!”

Mac’s eyes hadn’t opened. He was held upright only by the chains— _chains?!_ —that secured him to the wall. Jack shoved his weapon back into his waistband and slid onto his knees next to Mac.

“Mac? Mac! C’mon, Mac, stay with me!” Jack lightly slapped his friend’s face. The only response was a brief eyelid flutter. Cage appeared at Jack’s side. Wordlessly, she pulled out a thin wire and began to work at the locks on the manacles.

“Matty!” he barked into the comm. “Where the hell is that ambulance?”

“Two minutes out, Jack. Is he breathing?” Even over the radio, Matty’s generally calm voice betrayed emotion. She was as worried as anyone. The first manacle opened and Cage began to work at the second.

“Barely. C’mon, Mac!” Jack felt desperately for a pulse. “No, no, no, no no no nononono!” The second manacle fell free, and Mac slumped to the floor.

Jack immediately pulled him flat on his back. Mac still didn’t respond, lying motionless on the cold floor. Jack didn’t hesitate. He put one hand on top of the other, set the heel of his palm in the center of Mac’s chest, and began to push hard and fast.

“I’ll go wait for the paramedics,” Cage said, and left without waiting for a response.

Jack paused and felt for a pulse again. He found one this time, thin and thready. Then it faded. He was about to start compressions again when Mac’s entire body jerked and began to convulse. The paramedics thundered down the stairs, professionally shouldering Jack aside. They turned Mac onto his side as Cage pulled Jack out of their way. When Mac’s body went still, Jack lunged forward, only to be held back by his partner.

“Let them do their job, Jack.”

“If you don’t let me go right this instant, Cage, I swear—”

“Listen to her, Jack.” Matty’s voice through the comms was unyielding. “Let the professionals work.”

“Matty, I can’t just—”

“Stand by and do nothing. I know. But you can, and you will.” Then she softened. “Stay with him, Jack. Keep me updated.”

***

“I don’t suppose you saved me any Jell-O.” Mac’s voice was weak; barely more than a whisper, but he managed a smile.

Jack started, having been not-quite dozing. He had been at the hospital for nearly thirty-six hours, listening to the doctors talk about tox screens, parasympathetic nervous systems, belladonna poisoning, antidotes, and pilocarpine—whatever that was. He had stubbornly refused all offers of reprieve and even a direct order from Matty to go home and get some sleep. His place was with Mac. Even when, or perhaps especially when, Mac did not want him there.

“Now what kind of a friend do you take me for? Of course I didn’t eat all your Jell-O. Here, saved you the best one.” He set a red Jell-O cup on the table next to Mac’s bed. His friend was a pincushion of wires and tubes, and his arm was strapped to his body to keep it immobile. Because of course, on top of the poisoning and the beatings and whatever else Murdoc had done to him, Mac had also managed to get himself shot.

“Murdoc?”

“Slipped away. You nearly did, too, by the way. Don’t ever do that again, you hear? I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about you getting yourself kidnapped by murderous psychopaths.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mac coughed. Jack was instantly standing by his side, offering him a cup of water. Mac sipped it gratefully.

“What do the doctors say?”

“They said a lot of stuff I didn’t understand, and a lot more I didn’t listen to, but bottom line is you’re gonna be okay. Barely. But you will.”

Mac’s eyes slid shut for a moment. “Jack. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Then he grinned. “Now, about that apology and the warm beer you owe me….”


End file.
